Two Steps Back
by sakurasencha
Summary: Missing Scene from 1X10: Ana lags behind the group with the heavy weight of her past. But sometimes all it takes to move on is one friendly push forward. Ana x Cyrus friendship.


_I had to write this because I'm growing uncomfortable with these redemption plot arcs mostly dealing with the motivation for the villain's actions, rather than an actual epiphany on the part of a villain realizing they were in the wrong. Ana's biggest break through wasn't when we found out she did it all to gain Will back (because that doesn't make what she did any less wrong) it's when she apologized to the Rabbit, and I wanted to acknowledge that. I also wanted to do some more genfic and move away from some the bleak bleak stuff I've been writing lately (I blame you, The Hunger Games)._

___Pretty straight forward fic. Cyrus/Red Queen friendship. _Established Cylice and Red Knave. Takes place during 1x10 as the four journey from where ever Lizard died to the Cylice headquarters. Unbetad, so...

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**Two Steps Back**

The genie was driving her mad.

"You come back here!" Ana shouted, a red-gloved fist shaking the air. It was the third time she had made her command clear, and she had yet to see any result but the back of Will's leather jacket quickly and resolutely tromping in the opposite direction. "I said come back here!" Short of breath, she had no choice but to stop at the bottom of an incline, panting as she steadied herself against a tall pine. "I can make ya if I want to!"

Will whipped around, chin in the air. "And is that what you want, Ana? To make me?" Ana's voice froze, the fire snuffed out. Her stone silence said everything she couldn't. Will nodded. "That's what I thought." Because if the mistress' heart wasn't in it she couldn't make her genie do anything, and so he spun back around and continued to widen the gap between them, cresting the slope where Alice stood scouting the path ahead.

Ana closed her eyes. She took a deep breath in that did nothing to fortify her, pushed it evenly out. Exhausted, hungry – in that moment, a million wishes couldn't manufacture the motivation for her to move even a single step forward, so she wished instead for a moment of solitude and peace.

It was not granted.

"Leave it alone, Anastacia," came a well-groomed and ill-timed voice. Ana's eyes rolled up. The genie was driving her mad, but the former genie even more so. "He'll come around."

"Another word of unsolicited advice..." Hands on hips, she leveled a chilling look at Cyrus who stood casually by, smiling in that irritatingly benign way. "And I'll wish for your tongue on a platter." She donned a severe smile of her own, adjusted the posh accent that she wore like battle armor. "_Darling._"

Cyrus' smile didn't flinch. To all appearances, she had just bestowed him with a warm compliment, which put the Red Queen extremely out of joint. It was supposed to be _her majesty_ who was reputed for her collected and impenetrable veneer, and yet this former genie made her efforts look like child's play. To Ana, he was always so unnervingly calm, moved and breathed with such unruffled poise that he hardly seemed human at times. And even more unforgivable was that disgusting presumption. How dare he unearth her long buried secrets, flip through her sequestered emotions as a book lying open on the table? When he looked at her, as he did now, he seemed to bore straight through her glacial exterior, mapping out the firestorms that gathered and raged within as if they were stars on a cloudless night, and none of them were called beautiful, none of them were named Anastacia.

"It's not my intent to intrude," Cyrus said. "But you see, it takes a long while for the shock of being cursed into a bottle to wear off. Will is still reeling, I should think, especially considering what became of his first mistress." He let a silent moment go by. "He's trying to process it all, make sense of what's happened in his own mind." He bowed his head. "That's all I meant."

And she wasn't mollified by the fact that he was usually right, hit the target dead center on the first try. She hated him somewhat. At least, she hated to look at him, to see that impeccably passive face and be forced to wonder – wonder what he truly thought, wonder what he truly felt – wonder what the stranglehold of a lifetime's captivity could do to a person.

Ana swallowed. "And how long did it take you to get used to the bottle?" she asked lightly.

"The first few decades are a bit of a blur, but if I had to pinpoint a date…" Cyrus cocked his head, considering. "Definitely within the first century."

Over the years Ana had learned to steel herself against much, but she felt a sharp pang infiltrate. "I can't imagine it." Her eyes wandered to the arguing pair ahead, Will gesturing wildly to his right. "It seems like a fate worse than death," she said quietly.

"Only when you don't have anything to live for."

Ana narrowed her eyes, studying him. She caught a faint darkness that drifted into his eyes just then, barely a whiff before it passed away, replaced again by dark glassy pools, and she reminded herself that still waters often ran deep.

She looked away. The interminable life of a genie was a topic Ana no longer cared to canvass. "Enough sweet talk, darling," she drawled, pointing her chin down the path. "You've done your good deed for the day, now why don't you gallop on ahead and join the happy duo in…" She glanced ahead. Alice and Will were currently embroiled in a vigorous battle of rock, paper, scissors. "Whatever nonsense they're doing."

"Resolving differences, most likely, by the tried and true method of chance." He grinned. "But I'd rather stay here, if you don't mind. Alice agreed to take the forward guard, so I've taken the rear."

"Charmed, but I don't need a protector." She began straightening out her gloves, a smug smile creeping onto her face. "Perhaps you've forgotten, but I can more than handle myself."

"With a contingency of armed guards at your command, perhaps. But you're on your own now, and a wanted woman in Wonderland. You could probably use a second pair of eyes." Was it her imagination or was his smile leaning dangerously towards mocking? "Can't have you snatched up again while my back is turned," he said with a suspicious lack of condescension.

So he knew how to play dirty. Why didn't that surprise her? "Knowing Alice, for some reason I thought you would be much nicer."

"Oh, I'm not the nice one." He inclined his head towards her. "I'm sure you can relate."

Ana shrugged. "Fine," she said with a lazy wave, then lifted her skirts. "Do whatever you want." She began moving forward. "Just stay out of my way."

He acceded to her request, lagging several yards behind her. The journey was uneventful, but arduous. Ana lacked the stamina she once thrived upon during what she referred to as her "simpler years" (avoiding at all costs the label of "better" or the even more insidious "happy"). Her strength flagged; at particularly trying patches of the trail she felt close to passing out, loudly cursing, wishing all four of them to oblivion, and in her more desperate minutes a combination of all three. To help matters, occasionally Alice would glance behind her with that nauseatingly lovesick expression, and Ana could feel the two love birds exchange sickening smiles literally right through her.

Those were the moments when Ana's heart smoldered and her hands clenched at her sides. As if she needed more reminders of how little her existence mattered to this lot. As if she needed – struggling to trudge through endless miles of mire – more reminders of how pampered and privileged she'd become, how much she'd failed to alleviate the sufferings she'd once known on a daily basis. How worthless she'd become in everyone's estimation.

Because if no one else could be bothered to care, it was no wonder Will never spared her a backwards glance.

Ana abruptly stopped at the base of a steep climb, choked on a breath that would not come. Her heart beat too quickly, felt flattened under the pressure of a mental bombardment. _Will's never going to love me again_. The traitorous thought had frequently stolen into her mind, wreaked its fair bit of havoc. But she'd always tagged the line with a resounding _but_. But if I could make it happen. But if I could change the rules. But if I could undo the past and _make him love me again_.

Her distress did not subside when she heard Cyrus' footfalls come to a halt directly beside her. He lingered, running his fingers through a nearby bush. "Look," he said with a pleased smile._ "Camellia Sinensis_." He plucked a few handfuls and slipped them into a pouch on his belt. "Could come in handy."

The genie sure had a knack. Of course he would strike up trifling conversation while she tottered on the cusp of a complete breakdown. But Ana rallied, duly made up her face. She puckered her lips at him. "A rare poison?" she asked with hope and a sweet smile.

Cyrus' eyes widened. "Tea leaves." He laughed. "A wonderful relaxant." He smiled. "As I said, handy, in times like these." Then he leaned into the bush, evidently intent on smelling the ghastly thing, even going so far as to motion for her to join him.

Ana eyed the foliage warily. But considering how she probably had a few sprigs of them stuck in her hair already, along with an assortment of twigs and no doubt a bird nest or two, she relented, plunged in her nose and took a long inhale. They did indeed smell relaxing.

The pair righted themselves and began walking again – pari passu this time, but Ana didn't much mind. Cyrus had done his work and her thoughts had migrated to a kettle – she hadn't had a good cuppa in what felt like ages. But she regretted the allowance soon afterward when he began prattling:

"I've always found the woods a wondrous place, another miracle growing on the next bush."

Ana scoffed. "I find it dreadful. I hate the stink of forest."

"Do you really?"

"Is it a shock to learn I'm not a great adventurer like your Alice?" Ana maneuvered over a fallen tree, her boots slinging mud all over her dress. "Combing leaves out of my hair, sleeping on rocks, no thank you!" She kicked away a pinecone. "Although…." A small smile played on her lips. "There is one thing I like."

"And what's that?"

"The sounds." Both of them slowed for a moment, their ears bent towards the sky. "Do you hear it?" she breathed. High above the wind gushed in mighty bursts, swayed the canopies like a conductor did an orchestra.

"I do," he replied. "It sounds like the ocean."

Yes, Ana thought, that was it exactly. Waves crashing in the distance, water breaking at the shore. It made Ana think of the mighty lakes near her home, the belts of sand that lined the beaches of Wonderland. Steam rising in spirals off the Boiling Sea.

Ana pressed her lips together and looked at the ground. Genies and bottles and cursed fates aside, perhaps there was a deeper reason why she hated looking at Cyrus. Or Alice. Or Will. Or anyone in Wonderland, for that matter.

"Cyrus?" she said without thinking.

"Yes, Ana?" He must have noticed the blue notes in her voice, her demeanor, for his own voice harbored concern, his dark eyes an unadulterated trust in her motives that begged her honesty. Ana knew she must tell him.

Yet how to properly explain the sinking feeling that she was not worth the dirt she trod upon? That she'd somehow grown up into her mother's countless aspersions? _Failure. Selfish. Unworthy._ There was no denying such descriptors suited her quite nicely these days: her people regarded her as Mome Rath food. Will flaunted his hatred as brashly and as often as he could. Even Alice, the wunderkind of Wonderland, could hardly look at her without scowling. Every one of them hated her, and every one of them with good reason.

Except for one.

"You're the one who spent all that time hanging in a cage," Ana said slowly, folding her arms. "Yet it's Alice who is determined to hate me."

Cyrus dismissed her notion with a wave. "That's just Alice. She has a long and vivid memory. It does wonders for her loyalty, but unfortunately does the same for her grudges." He shrugged. "Give it time. That's always the best remedy with her."

"But why aren't _you_ more angry at me? Why don't you hate me, like everyone else?"

Both his eyebrows rose. "Do you want me to?"

"Well." She lifted one shoulder. "I fairly ruined your life. It seems only natural that you would."

"That's debatable."

"What? That you should hate me?"

"That you ruined my life."

Ana nearly gaped, incredulous. "I threw you off a cliff mid-proposal into the clutches of a mad man!"

He raised both of his hands. "Please, don't mistake me; I'm sure you've ruined your fair share of lives." He laughed at her withering look. "But count me an exception. I've lived a long time. You're not the first person who's done me a wrong turn. And what all those long years have taught me is that, of all my enemies, the worst by far is…." He averted his eyes, trailing off into a reticent silence.

"Who?" she pressed.

His eyes linked to hers. "Myself." A simple word, laden with more than a hint of self-loathing. _I'm sure you can relate_. Ana began to wonder if there was more than a love of tea that she and Cyrus held in common. "I ruined my own life long before you came around," he continued. "Along with my fair share of others. And if I can forgive myself, well…." He motioned in her direction.

Ana gazed past his eyes, over his shoulder, into the lenient aspect of the middle distance. "So you've made mistakes."

"Several lifetimes worth."

"And redemption…" She looked at him – this genie older than time and who seemed to have lived through everything – square in the eyes. "You believe it's possible?"

"I have Alice. You tell me."

Ana sucked in her cheeks, biting back the surfacing emotion. She considered telling him how one day, bathing in a pool of luxury and misery, she'd climbed the staircase up to the top of her castle's highest turret to survey the land. And how while viewing the vast majesty of her kingdom, a grand plan had risen up in her mind, a plan to return to her everything she'd once lost, to return her to her simple and happy glory. She had seen it all so clearly splayed before her, a picture as crisp and perfect as the sprawling forest that rimmed her fair palace, and decided that nothing but the fruition of this goal mattered – not her reputation, not her kingdom, not the components to her scheme which were nothing more to her than cogs in a wheel, expendable in the way a single piece of lumber did not a forest make.

Now she walked through that very forest and saw nothing but trees, every individual trunk and branch, the tall ones, the short ones, the sturdy and frail ones. The blighted and dead ones. Ancient barks that splintered with wisdom. The ones cut down before their time. And they each had their own story and they each mattered, and it was the first time Ana allowed an inkling of an idea that she was incredibly, irrevocably, foolishly wrong.

Ana closed her eyes. "Jafar…." She opened them. "He thinks we're the same. Him and me, like two peas in a pod."

For a moment Cyrus was silent. "Do you think you're the same as Jafar?" he asked softly. "Truly?"

"Well, look at us. We're a pair, aren't we? We both did whatever it took to get what we wanted, and at any cost – to ourselves or anyone that stood in our way."

"But you did it for love –"

"Doesn't matter." She held out her arms. "What do you think Jafar's doin' all this for? He never told me, but I'm sure it's as good a reason as any. As good as mine, I can tell ya. I wanted me wish no matter what the price, and so did he!" Ana stopped, took three deep breaths. She fought for every ounce of composure. "Do you know the saddest part about knowing that everyone hates me, that they want to do me in?"

"What?"

Ana shook her head and smiled. "I don't even blame them." Heavy drops fell from her lashes, streaked down each cheek and landed in the corners of her mouth. "I'm sorry for it. For all of it." She wiped an angry hand over her eyes. "I'm sorry, Cyrus!"

The surroundings stilled. The endemic chirps and chatterings ceased. All was silence save for the acutely human sound of quiet mourning, and the lingering rush of wind through the treetops – a far off ocean roaring, churning, ever changing – then Cyrus' voice low and hopeful in her ear:

"And that's why you're not like Jafar." She looked up, eyes wide and surprised, to see him smiling broadly. "And that's why he'll come around."

He stayed for only a moment longer, then walked slowly away. His presence now gone, his words yet remained and they sunk into Ana, wormed their way inside where they seemed to rearrange the confused and mixed up parts, fill in the weeping gaps. They pushed and prodded, and eventually pulled out a single, solitary smile. A real smile. Not one of malice or anger or inauthentic bravado. Ana smiled and she smiled fiercely with a feeling so long unfelt she had almost forgotten its existence, a hope she hadn't known since before she leapt into a mirror that promised her a future.

_I have a future_. Even if Will never came around. Even if she never acquired that epitome of happiness they called love. She had a future and she could do better. She would do better. Because she was not like Jafar, she was like Ana, and she owed it to herself, to everyone else, to be the queen that Wonderland deserved.

And when Ana looked down the path ahead, still littered with rocks and crevices and every cruel device of nature, she did not find it nearly so daunting.

She took a sure step forward. "Wait up for me, Cyrus," she called. "I'm not lettin' ya leave me behind!"

She had work to do.

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_Thanks for reading :)_


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